


Missed Connections

by larkspyt



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larkspyt/pseuds/larkspyt
Summary: It's been five years. Five bloody years since he's seen Yuuri.





	1. Chapter 1

That Tuesday morning, Yurio clambered into the passenger’s seat of Victor’s car. Victor tried to shove him out but Yurio promptly fell asleep; no surprise since it was four in the morning. Too tired himself to care, Victor sighed in resignation and drove to the airport. He was already late for work. 

No one had been more surprised than Victor when his modelling career had taken off after he retired from professional figure-skating. He hadn't thought the fashion world was in the market for tired world champions with creaky knees but the money was good. He knew he was lucky. Most professional skaters didn’t know what to do with themselves after retirement. Many of his acquaintances squandered away their prize money on the thriving St. Petersburg night scene and then dug into their savings to remain there. For Victor’s part, modelling and Yurio’s coaching sessions kept him busy enough so as not to think about the direction he was heading now that the best part of his life was over. 

Everything for the photoshoot had been set up in that tiny corner of the arrival hall by the time Victor arrived. He offered the makeup girl a apologetic smile for his tardiness. As she sat him down and worked on him, Victor asked, “So, are you going to tell me why you followed me here?” 

“Hm? Oh that.” Yurio had taken up one of the empty seats in the arrival and curled in on himself, looking very much like a ball of fluff with his oversized hoodie. He was scrolling through the newsfeed on his phone and then tapping on it distractedly. When no answer appeared coming forth, he said, “Your phone is buzzing.”

Victor directed a bemused smirk at his student. If anything, Yurio had grown more impudent towards him over the years. Victor would not have allowed his ex-wife half the liberties he had with Yurio. He picked up the call, listening half-heartedly to his agent who was far too excited considering the time. The casting director had liked his audition and would like to see him again for a second screen test. “When? Tomorrow morning?” Victor’s gaze flitted towards Yurio, who made a shooing motion at him without looking up from his phone. Victor raised a brow. He’d thought Yurio would be more possessive of him considering how he had promised to go over the choreography of his free programme. But Yurio only continued to fiddle with his phone, giving no sign he was unhappy so Victor confirmed the second audition.

“ _Oh and Elena called_ ,” said his agent. His ex-wife. Apparently she had lost the photos from their trip to Paris and wondered if Victor had a backup. His agent sighed. “ _Get her to call you next time. I’m not your personal assistant, you know._ ”

“You’re the only mutual friend we have left,” Victor pointed out. “Remind me, when was Paris again?” Was it three years ago before his retirement? Or was it four years ago after the Winter Olympics? Or five - no it couldn’t be. Five years ago, Victor had been prepping Katsuki Yuuri for the Grand Prix. Victor had not even known Elena five years ago, much less been to Paris with her. “Yes, you’re right. It was probably two years ago. Right before the divorce.” 

Victor could sense the makeup girl staring. He had been intensely private about his relationship with Elena. As good as he was with the press, everything they had written or said about his marriage was pure speculation, including the reason for its dissolution. For months, the small world of figure skating had been obsessed about whether Victor had a mistress, a kept boyfriend, an affair with a fan. Of course, it had been none of the above. The reason things had not worked out with Elena was very simple. It was - 

“Oi, _fatso_!” yelled Yurio. 

“Stop calling me that. It’s been years.”

Victor froze in his chair as Katsuki Yuuri came bounding through the arrival gates, a rolling luggage in tow and waving excitedly at Yurio. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. My Russian isn’t good enough to get me to the hotel.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They won’t let you check in until noon.” Yurio kicked Yuuri’s luggage aside and pulled him into a hug. Yuuri patted Yurio’s back awkwardly, still unused to such casual touching.

Because he had just done the math, Victor knew how long it’s been. Five years. Five bloody long years. And here was Yuuri, smiling despite being weary with travel. He’s traded the glasses for contacts and there was a bit more charm in his grin. His hair was still an unruly mess and there was a bit of stubble on his chin. But it was definitely Yuuri. 

“Oh by the way, Victor’s here too but he’s working so we’re taking a taxi,” said Yurio.

Their eyes met as if following some inevitable trajectory and between them, silence dropped and stretched. It’s been so long since Victor had seen him in person that the shock of it stalled the words in his throat. Part of Victor had thought he would never see Yuuri again. The last time they had been in the same room, they had been shouting. What were the words? Victor couldn’t remember them; only that he had chosen them specifically to cut Yuuri and force him into saying what Victor knew to be true. At every competition since, Victor had been tense, waiting for Yuuri to show up, waiting for a chance to break the solidifying ice between them. But Yuuri never came. He had been serious when he’d said that Grand Prix run with Victor would be his last professional season. And so, the ice became a field of glacier. Victor had not known it could be so painful to look upon someone he was once so fond of. 

“Hello,” Yuuri said finally, a shy smile playing about his lips. “You look well, Victor. I’ve seen some of your modelling work. It’s very impressive.”

Victor turned the words in his head, trying to guess at its true meaning. He took so long that Yuuri’s smile became uncertain, and then it dropped altogether. 

“Come on, we’re wasting time.” Yurio dragged Yuuri by the hand towards the automatic doors. “We’ll drop your bags at my place first. I want to show you the city. I’m going to text Yuuko and tell her you arrived in one piece.” He yelled for a taxi before they even exited the hall. 

“Slow down.” Yuuri laughed, brightness restored. 

Yurio’s fingers were tight around Yuuri’s wrist and as they left, they exchanged looks, laughs mingling. Paralysed in that makeup chair in the middle of that vast arrival hall, Victor could not help the way his stomach lurched, the subsequent clench of his gut. When did _that_ happen?


	2. Chapter 2

Although Victor did not see Yurio or Yuuri at all after the airport, he knew where they were. Yurio had put it up for all the world to see on his Instagram account. Sitting in the waiting room outside the casting director’s office, Victor scrolled through the feed hungrily. There was a photo of Yuuri’s back as he gaped at the bright viridian exterior of the Winter Palace and several more of the two of them grinning like idiots within the palace’s gilded walls. And then there was Yuuri waiting in the long queue to buy some _piroski._ Yuuri’s own account proudly displayed two half-eaten pastries; one filled with jam and the other with meat and cabbage. Victor’s stomach grumbled just looking at them. 

Sighing, Victor jammed his phone into his jeans and leaned against the back of his seat, sulking. He recalled, though not when, promising Yuuri he would show him around his city. He had it all mapped in his head. His favourite delis, sunset on the Neva, the Pushkin museum. Seeing those photos felt like Yurio had taken something that was his by right. It made no sense. And since when did Yurio became such good friends with Yuuri anyway? They had been texting but as far as Victor was aware, Yurio had not seen Yuuri in years either. 

He ran careless fingers through his hair, mussing it. He regretted the manner in which he had parted ways with Yuuri but there was no reason he should get so riled up after all this time. He closed his eyes, resolving to think nothing more of it. 

After the audition, the casting director held him back and told him about a friend of hers in LA, who wanted to produce a movie about a figure-skater. The friend was looking for a choreographer and consultant for the project and the casting director wanted to know if Victor was interested. 

He wondered how much time this job would eat up. Would he have to cut back on modelling? Turn down some personal requests for choreography? The next skating season wasn’t for a while so Yurio wouldn’t demand as much from him if Yakov was around. Consulting for a big name Hollywood producer was a huge job and an excellent opportunity. Yet, Victor found himself so agitated that he drove to the ice rink and laced up. 

The only ones still there were a couple of Yakov’s new students; Yurio’s juniors. He greeted them cheerily but otherwise ignored them. They were children who were too often starstruck to be of interest to him. He warmed up with a couple of laps, soothing his nerves with the sharp drawl of his blades sliding through ice, and broke into a step sequence, a triple-axel, a double, a quad-Salchow. 

“You’re the only one who would consider a quad-Salchow warming up, you know.” Leaning against the rim of the barrier, Mila waved at him, her trademark fiery red hair standing out like a beacon. Victor enjoyed Mila's company. He really did. However, ever since they failed in their attempt to pair-skate, Mila had taken to teasing Victor almost as much as she teased Yurio, which was constantly.

“I heard from Yuri you had an audition. How did it go?”

“It’s fine. The casting director seemed happy. She wants to recommend me for another job. And how was Yuri today? Did he behave?”

Mila let out a bark of laughter. “He skipped. Went to play tourist with the Japanese Yuuri. Look, he uploaded more photos.” Mila whipped out her phone to show him a picture of Yurio and Yuuri on a boat tour along the Neva. Yurio had snapped the photo of Yuuri mid-laugh. Victor’s eye twitched. “Oh, what was that?” 

“What was what?”

“I saw that. Are you _annoyed_?”

“No, of course not. Yuri can spend his time however he likes. I just thought he took skating a bit more seriously.”

“It’s off-season and you’re the one who always says he practises too hard. Come on, Victor, you’re being too obvious. At this rate, the gossip blogs are going to start writing nonsense again.”

Victor pasted on a smirk. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. All that stuff with Yuuri happened a long time ago. I’m no longer interested in him.” He skated away before Mila could come up with a rejoinder, basking in this tiny win until he saw that Yurio and Yuuri had been sitting two benches away from Mila and could have heard their conversation perfectly. Victor felt his throat go dry. When did they arrive?

Neither Yuuri nor Yurio appeared to be paying any attention to him, and instead were deep in conversation as Yurio drew loops in the air with his pointer finger and said, “No, I said a triple, not a quad.” Yuuri nodded, holding up his hand defensively and laughing. He finished tying on his skates and to Victor’s surprise, Yurio did not follow him onto the rink. 

A musical piece Victor wasn’t familiar with streamed through the speaker systems. Everyone who had been practicing in the rink stopped in surprise. No one had scheduled to practice their programme tonight. 

In the middle of the rink, Yuuri began to skate. The piece was a fast one with many layers of string instruments coming in at different times. It wasn't something Victor would have picked for Yuuri. This piece felt more like Yurio’s. And sure enough as Yuuri skated through it, Yurio waved his fist in the air angrily, yelling, “I told you it was a triple-Salchow, you Japanese fatso. What is it with you and quads?” 

An unpleasant heat licked at the bottom of Victor’s gut. How dare Yurio think himself good enough to choreograph for Yuuri. He didn’t understand at all. The attraction of Yuuri’s skating was in the way he moved to the music. It had an understated sensuality that hinted at different stories all at once. With these crass movements, Yurio had made Yuuri little more than a clown, entertaining for laughter. Victor felt his fingers ache and wrung them, not realising he’d balled them into tight fists. 

Thankfully, the piece was a short one. Yuuri broke out of it, chuckling in good humour and coming up to meet Yurio at the rink-side. “Alright, I did it. Now it’s your turn to try something of mine.” 

Yurio’s eyebrow jumped. “Oh, you choreographed something for me, Disney on Ice? Is it ‘ _Let It Go_ ’?” Scowling, Yuuri flicked him on the forehead. Yurio was so surprised by it he froze for a full second before grabbing Yuuri in a headlock. 

Victor clicked his tongue, loud enough for them to hear him and stop. “You’re setting a bad example for your juniors, Yuri.” 

“Jeez, lighten up," said Yurio, straightening, at the same moment Yuuri said, “Is this any of your business? As I recall, you used to be much fussier on the rink.” Without another word, Yuuri stepped off the rink and left with Yurio hurrying after him. 

Victor swallowed. 

There was once a time when Yuuri could not ignore Victor even if he tried, when he’d regard whatever Victor did with stars in his eyes. Victor could’ve made him flush with the touch of a finger, the whisper of a word. Yuuri had been his. 

At his side, Mila rolled her eyes. “So _obvious_.”

Victor made rare use of the showers after his session. Nothing he did on the ice could take his mind away from the way Yuuri had looked at him, spoken to him. Yuuri’s gaze had been clear, steady, his words as unforgiving as stone. Yuuri has grown rigid since Victor last saw him. It should be unappealing since what had attracted Victor to Yuuri in the first place was those unexpectedly soft lines of his body when he arched on the ice. 

Mila was right. He was too clearly fixated with Yuuri and he had no good excuse for it. Five years ago, he could claim it was because he was Yuuri’s coach. He’d felt protective over Yuuri. But what now? Victor didn’t even know if Yuuri had forgiven him for all the things he’d said. 

He towelled himself, tugged on his spare clothes, and hoped he’d tired himself out enough for a good sleep. Nearly out of the locker room, he paused in his steps as he heard Yurio’s voice floating by. 

“You’re being stupid. I’m sure he’s left by now. Victor never uses the shower here.”

Victor couldn’t hear Yuuri’s reply. It was too muffled by his sheepish tone, but the cadence of those words was so much more like the Yuuri Victor has known that Victor grabbed the wall and pressed himself close so he could hear it better. There he caught snatches of “out of line” and “cannot believe”. Not enough to piece together an answer. Victor sighed in frustration. What was Yuuri saying?

Then Yurio said, “You never told me what it is that made the two of you distant. And no matter how much I asked, Yuuko wouldn’t tell me either.”

A beat of silence and then, “It’s nothing.” And louder, “It’s not important.”

Yurio snorted. “Sure.”

“I’m serious. Victor made some assumptions about me. I denied them but he wouldn’t believe me and he was willing to ruin our friendship for it. That’s it.”

Victor had been so sure of himself back then. He’d thought after they fought, Yuuri would come running after him and all would be well. Instead Yuuri had let him run for five whole years. Maybe Victor had been wrong about Yuuri all this time. Maybe Yuuri had never loved him at all. Maybe it had been all in Victor’s head. 

Victor sighed, smiling to himself. Maybe he’d ruined it all for nothing. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Three days after Yuuri won the Grand Prix Final, Victor had taken a plane to St. Petersburg instead of following him back to Hasetsu to celebrate with his friends and family. Their argument had come on fast and both had booked flights out before their tempers had time to cool. 

Unfortunately, the fallout of their disagreement followed Victor to Russia. Victor had seen it in everyone’s faces the first day he returned to the rink. 

In the same way his decision to coach Yuuri had made a big splash in the news, so did their abrupt falling out, especially since it was so soon after the biggest win of Yuuri’s career. The excited media speculated wildly as it was wont to do. Perhaps Yuuri had won unfairly and Victor had quit in disapproval. Or maybe Yuuri had found Victor difficult to work with and only kept him long enough to win the Grand Prix. But the story that caused the most sensation was this: that they had been lovers and for one reason or another, had decided to break up. This particular rumour accumulated so much momentum that _Yakov_ had taken Victor aside and clearing his throat, said, “You’ve always been handsy so it’s hard to tell. _Was_ there something between the two of you?”

Since then, Victor has sidestepped questions about Yuuri during interviews. His charm made it easy, but the more seasoned journalists soon picked up on it so even though they stopped asking Victor about Yuuri, Victor knew they were talking about them, wondering what had happened, wondering if they’d ever make up. The world of professional figure-skating was a fishbowl and Victor and Yuuri’s combined reputation refused to let the story die. Victor knew all this and yet, he was stunned into incoherence when he spotted his name on the top of his mobile newsfeed that day. 

‘ _Possible reconciliation?_ ’ the article headline read. ‘ _Yuuri Katsuki spotted in St. Petersburg with Nikiforov’s protege, Yuri Plisetsky_.’ The journalist had somehow found the photos on Yurio’s private account and had built on a story on that. It didn’t matter that Victor wasn’t in any of them. The fact that the photos placed Yuuri in the same city as Victor and being friendly with someone who was close to Victor was enough for skating enthusiasts to reintroduce _#victuuri_ into the conversation. Naturally, the article took this opportunity to recap all the reasons people had assumed Victor and Yuuri had been an item in the first place: photos of them hugging, a mention of Victor’s involvement in Yuuri’s Eros choreography, a recount of how Yuuri had admitted on Japanese television that it was Victor who had opened his eyes to love. That and much more ‘evidence’ that had been similarly taken out of context the first time around. 

Victor scrolled through them wistfully, and laughed when the article ended with a startlingly upbeat, ‘ _whatever the true reason for Katsuki’s visit to St. Petersburg, this journalist is rooting for the both of them._ ’

Mila confronted him at the rink as Yurio finished his warm-ups. “If you see paparazzi outside the complex again, just tell me. I’ve got a spare umbrella and sunglasses.”

Victor thanked her for her consideration but he doubted such fuss was needed this time. “It must be a slow day for news. Yuuri and I stopped becoming relevant ever since we retired.” Outside Japan and the figure-skating circuit, Yuuri was pretty much unknown and while Victor modelled and did some work for local TV, in the entertainment industry he was a nameless face in a crowd. Or at least that was what he thought until Mila told him there were rumours popping up about Victor being scouted to consult on a big Hollywood movie. 

“Is it true? Shit, it is, isn’t it?” she added at the look on his face. 

“How did they find out? I just discussed it with my agent yesterday.”

Mila continued to curse under her breath. “Well at least this gives you a reason to speak with Japanese Yuuri. I know you’ve been dying to.” She smirked when Victor did a quick scan of the rink-side. “He’s not here. Probably sleeping off a hangover. Oh, right you didn’t know. I went out with the Yuris yesterday. Neither of them can hold their drink.” 

Of course, Mila could do whatever the hell she wanted. Victor hadn’t expected her to stay away from Yuuri, but he hadn’t thought she would befriend Yuuri either because right now, Victor _couldn’t_. Without a parting word, Victor skated away on the pretence of beginning Yurio’s session. It was rude but the knowledge that he was being petty didn’t stop Victor. 

To make things worse, Yurio was distracted for the entire session. His spins lacked speed and his free leg was sloppy. He slouched coming out of the Salchow which made him overbalance. And at times, he forgot his place in the choreography as if he’d not been practicing this for weeks. At the end of the two hours, Victor was about to suggest adding another hour - he had nothing to do anyway - when Yurio stormed off the rink; the tension vibrating taut across his shoulders a clear sign of the temper he had only recently learned how to lash. Victor knew better than to interrupt him in this state. 

Without Yurio, the rink was empty. The other skaters have departed for lunch. If no one else had booked the rink, the public would soon start trickling in. Strapping on his skates, Victor plugged earphones into his mobile and slowed to a stop in the middle of the rink. 

He looked up at the empty seats of the auditorium. The emptiness of the large space tugged at a similar hollowness that had been lurking in the back of his mind for a long time. He had not thought himself prey to such desperate thoughts when he had been skating competitively. Back then, it had been so easy to chase the high. All he had to do was think of the next competition, the next year, the next challenge. There was always something to pit himself against; something that guaranteed that cliff-drop euphoria whether or not he won. What was left for six-time world champion and living legend Victor Nikiforov now? 

He scrolled to the latest musical piece he had been choreographing to on a whim and drifted. It was an intentionally slow piece so as not to put undue stress on his knees. He had wanted to continue competing but his physiotherapists predicted knee operations for him if he’d kept up with the gruelling practice schedule required for a figure-skater at his level. All those jumps. He’d been furious at those doctors, at himself. Georgi was still competing so why the hell did _he_ have to retire? 

Victor bit his lip and lowering his shoulders, allowed himself to be distracted by the music once more and for a very short while, he could pretend that the auditorium was packed, that there was a panel of judges scrutinising his every glide, that there was meaning to his skating. He raised his arms and arched his back, sailing into a languid Ina Bauer and finishing with the music. That was when he saw Yuuri. 

“That was beautiful.” Yuuri smiled, pocketing his phone and resting his elbows on the panel. “What music were you listening to?”

“ _Rachel’s Song_ ,” Victor replied dumbly, too blindsided to do anything else, “by Vangelis.”

Yuuri hummed. “I’ve never heard of it. I’ll check it out.” The smile he had pulled on out of politeness gave way to one a bit more sheepish. “I’d like to apologise for snapping at you yesterday. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

Because Yuuri was looking at his feet, Victor was at liberty to stare at him and drink in his fill. Gone were the cold words and the stern eyes from yesterday. Without those, standing before Yuuri was like revisiting a sweet memory. Victor wanted to reach across the panel and drag him into his arms. He’s done so often enough back in the day without needing an excuse. Victor wrung his hands and let them fall to his sides. 

Shaking his head, he said, “It was my fault. I _was_ out of line.” This prompted Yuuri to look up at him and his open expression of surprise rang alarm bells in Victor’s head. He knew this was an opportunity. He didn’t understand what to use it for but he was so desperate to seize it the words came tumbling out. “I’ve missed you so much.”

This admission shocked Yuuri so much he backed away, hurt edging onto his features. 

Victor grabbed Yuuri’s arm to keep him close. Yuuri leaned into him and then wrenched himself out of his grasp, looking betrayed by his own response. “Don’t do this again, ,” he said, his gaze returning to the floor. 

Yurio came out from the locker rooms, hair dripping and gym bag slung over a shoulder. “Oh good, _fatso_ , you’re already here. If we leave now, we can get a good table at Masha. I need a drink.”

“It’s one in the evening,” Yuuri pointed out with a strained smile. 

Yurio rolled his eyes. Victor couldn’t help but wonder why friendship was so easy for them when they had begun so hostile with one another. “I need to speak with Victor first. Wait for me outside?” said Yurio. 

Yuuri stared at Victor, hesitating. “I’ll see you around.”

Once Yuuri was out of earshot, Yurio turned to Victor with a snarl; a vestige of the temper he had spent away in the shower. “If you’re in love with him, then chase him. If you don’t want to then give up your feelings. Don’t burden me with this bullshit on the ice.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t,” said Yuuri, cutting him off with an accusing finger. “You’ve always had so little control when it comes to him and I don’t care as long as it doesn’t interfere with my training.”

Victor crossed his arms. “If you want to blame me for your poor performance today, by all means. It’s not going to change the truth.” Yurio spun on his heel, too impatient to argue to with him. Since Yurio was already upset with him, Victor decided to ask, “Has Yuuri…has he said anything about me to you?”

Yurio shot him a look of disbelief. “Of course not, you asshole,” he seethed and stalked off.

For the first time, Victor realised that he’s never told Yurio his version of the events between him and Yuuri. But at this point in time, it didn’t appear to matter. He was the bad guy in this story. Everyone thought so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is going on? This is a sports anime. It's not supposed to have this much character development by episode SEVEN. I wonder how long I can keep going with this before I have to slap on 'Canon Divergence' in the tags.

The confrontation with Yuri kept Victor up all night so that when sunlight streamed into his bedroom, Victor sat up groaning. He wished he could languish in bed but he had modelling go-sees scheduled for the entire day. 

At the very least, it gave him a valid reason to avoid the rink. He didn’t want to see Yuri and neither did he feel like navigating the minefield that was his current relationship with Yuuri. Time had not been the ultimate healer of wounds, as Victor had hoped. Yuuri was now more skittish with him than ever. To add to that, Mila was still ignoring him for his spot of rudeness yesterday. 

It had not been this bad when he had divorced Elena. 

Victor’s go-sees tended to be monotonous in procedure. There wasn’t much to do besides walk and pose for a few photos. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, they often bored him to exhaustion. 

He stopped for lunch at the Biblioteka on the way to go-see number four, choreographing a short programme in his head as he waited for his coffee.

He wondered how well Yuuri had settled in his retirement. He knew from social media that Yuuri had done two seasons with Disney on Ice and had a great time with it. Yuuri’s more recent photos were all of Hasetsu. The sunrise behind the Castle, children in tutus at Minako’s ballet studio, an alarming array of pork cutlet rice bowls from various angles. Guang Hong and Leo made several appearances from their trip together to Bangkok to visit Phichit. 

With a sigh, Victor switched off his mobile to stop himself from visiting Yuuri’s Instagram for the hundredth time. He didn’t know what it was about Yuuri that made him so agitated. He had gone years without thinking about him but now that Victor’s seen him, he felt addicted all over again. Had it been this bad the last time around?

As he left the Biblioteka, he noticed a few people staring at him longer than was appropriate and furiously tapping at their smartphones. Victor didn’t think too much on it. The general public recognised him sometimes and he was self-aware enough to know he was still considered attractive. He forgot all about it as he flitted to the next go-see and then the next, and after his final meeting, he went straight home to bed, his fatigue finally catching up with him. 

Hours later, a shrill ringing pierced through the haze of his sleep. He jolted upright, fumbling at the side table to stop the noise. He hadn’t realised he still had a land line. How much has he been paying for a service he hadn’t used in years? Bringing the receiver to his ear, he managed a bleary, “Hello?”

“ _Hello, Victor._ ”

Victor’s fingers spasmed on the receiver; cobwebs of sleep washing away. “Hello, Elena.” He hasn’t heard her voice in months which was entirely Victor’s fault. He’d insisted they communicate through his agent not out of any hostility towards Elena, but every time he thought about her, he couldn’t help but dwell on his own deficiencies. He had once been the most eligible bachelor in Russia. Elena had chosen to leave him all the same. “How are you?”

“ _Irina has been trying to contact you for hours. She’s afraid you’re in a ditch somewhere and she’ll have to find someone new to represent_.”

Rummaging through his sheets, Victor found his mobile and switched it back on. It buzzed to life, brought up ten missed calls from his agent, and then spewed forth so many notifications the mobile froze. Victor powered up his laptop, bewildered. “What happened? Did someone die?” he muttered into the receiver, quirking a smile when he heard Elena’s huff of laughter. 

His amusement withered when he realised what had caused the commotion. It was a YouTube video. He pressed ‘play’ and his fingers went numb as the first notes of _Rachel’s Song_ floated out of his laptop’s tinny speakers. He didn’t have to check who had uploaded this. Only one person has seen this routine in its entirety. Victor moved to close it.

“ _That’s some of your most beautiful work,_ ” said Elena. Victor’s cursor wavered over the ‘pause’ button. “ _I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen your heart in the way you skate._ ”

That was the problem. Victor’s heartbreak, his desperation, his ennui was all there for the whole world to see. And based on the view count, they have watched it over twenty thousand times. 

“ _The one who uploaded the video - he’s the skater you coached all those years ago, isn’t he? Irina called me when she couldn’t get you. She said to warn you about paparazzi._ ” Ah, of course, because now they had solid proof that Yuuri had seen Victor. “ _Tell me, are you still in denial about him?_ ”

“What do you want, Elena?”

“ _The photos. Did you find them?_ ” 

Victor frowned for a long time before he realised what she was talking about. His agent had told him Elena wanted the Paris photos but he had been so thrown by Yuuri’s arrival he had forgot all about it.

At his silence, Elena chuckled; something he had rarely heard when they had been married. “ _You haven’t, have you? It’s okay. I just need them by the end of the week. Do you still have my email?”_

“I’m sorry,” Victor offered. “I’ll search for them right now.”

“ _Like I said, I don’t need them until the end of the week._ ” Elena sighed. “ _You don’t need to be so hard on yourself all the time. I suggest you call Irina and deal with whatever media frenzy your Japanese ex created first._ ”

“Yuuri and I weren’t together. It wasn’t like that.”

A beat of silence. “ _I meant your ex-_ student _, Victor._ ” 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Yuuri came along to Yurio’s training session the following morning. Victor had thought he would make at least some effort to avoid him, but there he stood watching Yurio, calm as you please. He disappeared for a while - at which point Victor released the breath he didn’t he’d been holding - only to return with two cups of coffee; one of which he offered to Victor. 

Victor accepted it without looking at him. 

Yuuri put his elbows on the barrier, blowing across the surface of his coffee. He stood an arm’s length away from Victor; far enough to indicate their estrangement but still close enough for Victor to touch. The patch of stubble on Yuuri’s chin aged him. Victor wished he could take a razor to it. 

“Oi, Victor, are you paying attention?” Yurio said, scowling on the ice. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri glanced at Victor, eyebrow raised. His lips parted. Was it going to be an apology? An explanation?

Victor’s mobile buzzed in his pocket; his agent’s name appearing in white against the dark background. “Take a break.”

Yurio looked on the verge of pitching a fit when Yuuri waved at him, beaming. Victor tried to ignore the excited chatter behind him. He shrugged off his cardigan as the doors parted to admit him outdoors, the humid summer air already beading his forehead with perspiration. The air outside was stuffy. Victor unbuttoned the top of his shirt, breathing in, wondering if he was really smelling strawberries in the vicinity or if he was dreaming it up. 

He put his agent on speaker with half a mind to dismiss anything she had to tell him when she said, “ _It’s Stars on Ice._ ”

Victor frowned. “Did they lose someone from their roster or something?” His gaze wandered across a row of bushes behind a white fence. There were spots of pink peeking out from under the foliage. 

“ _They want you to choreograph their next tour. And to join their troupe._ ”

He put his mobile in the pocket of his shirt to free up a hand to part the bushes. “I thought they didn’t want someone who can’t pair-skate.” Mila would laugh in his face if he asked her to try with him again. Their fledgling attempts had been laughably bad for skaters of their skill level. 

“ _They saw the video. They want you as a special guest soloist._ ”

He bent low, fingers curling around a patch of strawberries. 

“ _By the by, LA also wants your answer on the consulting job by next week. They want you more now since your name recognition is at an all-time high. You should give your Japanese boy a kiss._ ”

Victor told her to give him some more time to mull it over and hung up without giving her a chance to protest his indecision. In truth, Victor wanted Stars on Ice. He was even interested in Hollywood, but he hadn’t decided how he felt about taking jobs that were a direct result of Yuuri’s meddling. Hadn’t decided on whether it mattered at all. 

Eating strawberries was a lot simpler than contemplating any of that right now. 

“Victor?” said Yuuri.  

Victor straightened, hiding a fistful of strawberries behind his back. “I don’t think this bush belongs to anyone. It’s just here.”

Yuuri looked as if he was struggling not to laugh. “Yuri is waiting for you. He’s promised to accompany me to the airport so try not to keep him too long.”

Victor’s heart beat a rapid tattoo. He hadn't thought that Yuuri would be leaving so soon, this suddenly. Was he to wait five more years before seeing him again? Victor caught Yuuri’s arm. Yuuri became unbearably still under his touch, so much so that Victor feared he was somehow hurting him. Swallowing, he said, “Are we going to pretend nothing happened?”

“Well," said Yuuri, voice thick, "we’re good at that."

It was the first time either of them acknowledged their long years of silence. Despite the heat, Victor felt cold. He stared at the back of Yuuri's head, wondering what expression Yuuri was wearing now. “That routine was personal. No one was supposed to see it and without asking me you…what made you think you had the right to do something like that? And you were going to leave without apologising?”

Yuuri wrenched his arm out of Victor’s grip. “I could ask you the same.”

“What?”

And finally, Yuuri turned to face him, eyes blazing. “Do you even remember what you said to me? How you pushed?”

If Yuuri had asked him a week ago, Victor would have struggled. However in these past four days, Victor had been able to think of little else and he was as certain now as he had been five years ago. “You needed to be pushed.”

Yuuri exploded, “Fuck you, Victor.” Upon realising he’d shouted, he flushed, darting his gaze side to side to make sure he’d not attracted unwanted attention. Keeping his voice low, he said, “You’ve always been this way. You go at your own pace without caring if anyone is keeping up with you. That’s how you ended up so lonely at the top. That’s why you goad all those young skaters to catch up to you and why you came all the way to Hasetsu to coach me.” 

He didn’t continue but Victor could hear the further accusations in his head. That’s why Elena dumped him. That’s why pair-skating was such an ordeal for him. But it was also what made him the best figure skater and the reason why he has never wanted for work. What fault could Yuuri find with that?

Victor sneered. “At least I’m honest with myself. You still don’t have the courage to admit you were in love with me.” 

“What was the  _point_?” Yuuri was shouting again but this time he didn’t think to check himself. “I know you well enough that you didn’t love me the same way so why were you eager for me to say my feelings aloud? Are you so desperate for another reason to gloat?” His chest heaved. His eyes were wide with misery. 

Victor felt slack with shock. He hadn’t realised Yuuri had been aware. Back then Yuuri’s love for him had been all-consuming, possessive, binding. Victor’s own inclination had been the pride and fondness of a mentor that transmogrified into affection. It was earnest but a puddle compared to Yuuri’s ocean.

“I wanted you to be honest with yourself," said Victor. His fingers were sticky with strawberry juice. He dropped the fruit onto the grass in a pulpy mess. "I didn’t understand why you were lying to me right when you’d achieved what we’d dreamed of. But that still doesn’t give you the right to put up my routine. ”

“So it’s okay when you push but not when I do it?” Yuuri said after awhile. “It was wrong of me to put up that video but you’ve been confining yourself for so long.”

“What—“

“You think it’s not obvious how much you hate the modelling because it keeps you off the ice?" There was a hitch in Yuuri's breath. "You’re afraid to go back because you think your knees have somehow made you lesser. You push people to give their very best and you don’t forgive anyone for giving anything less. You didn’t forgive me all those years ago and now you won’t forgive yourself.”

With every assertion, Victor felt as if Yuuri was cracking into him, opening his chest, seeing how his heart thumped. It was scalding and left him feeling far too exposed.

Yuuri sniffled, lowering his head to wipe his sleeve over his nose covertly. “I wanted the world to know that you’re still that same genius they loved years ago and that even though we’re not friends that I still love you. So it’s fine if you’re angry with me but I won’t let you stay in this  _rut_.”

The breath was knocked out of Yuuri’s body as Victor slammed him against the wall, his coffee abandoned to spill onto the grass and strawberry slop. “Tell me I’m wrong,” Yuuri wheezed, his clear unwavering gaze gouging deep holes in the soft underbelly of Victor’s insecurities.

 _Oh you terrible, brilliant pork cutlet rice bowl,_ Victor thought and kissed him. 

Yuuri gasped, opened his mouth, slanted his lips sideways. 

It should not be surprising that Yuuri saw right through him. Victor had strived to learn everything about Yuuri as a student; had spent nearly every waking moment with him to that end. It stood to reason that Yuuri had used the time to build a similar connection with him. Still, painful as it was, that didn’t explain why it felt this  _good_ that Yuuri was the one who able to see him so clearly.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but it felt like it. Yuuri’s lips were warm and pliant under his. Victor snaked a hand behind Yuuri’s head to secure him, groaning. Had it been this good last time? Why had he been so sure he wasn’t in love with Yuuri? The coarse scratch of Yuuri’s stubble surprised Victor into breaking away. 

Yuuri licked his lips, a ponderous look on his face. “Really? After all this time?” A pinched look overcame his soft features. “Or is this your way of punishing me?” The frown was smoothed from his brow when Victor leaned in to touch their foreheads together. Victor could smell coffee on Yuuri’s breath and refrained from licking into his mouth again. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Victor admitted. “Other than I’m sick of being at odds with you.”

Yuuri pushed him away. “This...this isn't the time, Victor. I’m flying off in a few hours and my new tour starts in a week. And you…you need to think properly about what you want to do with your life first.”

“Yuuri—“

“Regardless, I am your friend. That, at least, will never change,” Yuuri pressed his hand into Victor’s and then left before Victor could persuade him otherwise. 

It was all too sudden. Victor didn't even have the time to process his thoughts. He should have confronted Yuuri the minute he landed in Russia. He could have been eating _piroski_ with him instead of stalking Yurio's Instagram like a twit.

Victor stared at Yuuri's receding back with a paralysing heaviness in his heart. What had been those words? Those words he had chosen all those years ago just to hurt Yuuri. 

“ _You know so little about love. You don’t even know it when you have it._ ”


End file.
